


Miles to Go Before I Sleep (the MBTA remix)

by darkrosaleen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Subways, Supernatural Elements, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: On a cold night in Boston, Brad gets lost on the subway.





	Miles to Go Before I Sleep (the MBTA remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Woods, Lovely Dark and Deep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901082) by [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/pseuds/snowshus). 

It doesn't get that cold in Boston, not like it does in Nova Scotia. But every year, for a few days or a week, the temperature drops below ten Fahrenheit and a pall descends over the city, turning Boston into a ghost.

Brad doesn't like being out on the streets when no one's around. Boston is a loud, colorful city, and the people here are some of the most vibrantly alive that Brad's ever seen, but the city goes to bed earlier than he would like. It reminds him of something his grandmother used to say: don't be outside at three in the morning in winter, because that's when the cold women come out.

Tonight, Brad didn't heed the warning. It's 2:37 AM; Patrice left before the bar closed, but Brad got caught up talking to a pretty woman he'd met inside, and they stayed in the bar doorway chatting as the crowd trickled out. The woman's cheeks and nose were flushed pink from the cold, and it seemed like it was going somewhere good, or at least somewhere warm. But then she'd gotten an emergency phone call and her roommate had driven out to pick her up, and Brad was left standing alone in the doorway, too cold to wonder if she was just letting him off easy.

Forty minutes after closing time, it looks like the whole city has been abandoned, all the doors barred and the streets empty. There's something unsettling about a city without its people, something that makes the hair on Brad's arms stand up. Or maybe it's the wind; the temperatures tonight are the lowest this year, and it's so cold that it sinks through the high-tech insulation of his jacket, under his clothes and under his skin and straight down to his bone marrow. It's so cold that Brad feels like he's never going to be warm again.

He starts walking down the deserted street. There are no cabs in sight, and Brad is digging clumsily for his phone when a lit interior down the block catches his eye. It's a subway station, one of the old ones that hasn't been updated since the seventies. A double-sided sign out front proclaims _NEW LATE NIGHT SERVICE, 1:00 – 4:55 AM_.

Brad is cold, tired, and still a little tipsy. Not wanting to spend another minute outside waiting for a cab, he begins to descend the stairs into the station, noticing the unsettling way the fluorescent lights reflect off the grimy tiles.

The staircase twists down to the gate, which opens up to a long, dark platform with a low ceiling. There's no one on the platform or the stairs, either passengers or people looking for shelter. Brad has a prickling feeling in his scalp that says he wouldn't camp here either, no matter how cold it got.

He doesn't know how long he stands there waiting for the train. It isn't as cold as it is outside, and soon his shivering calms down, like warmth is spreading into him from the inside out. Brad can feel sweat pooling inside his jacket, and he's struck with the strange urge to strip his outer layers off, but he ignores it. The train could come any minute, and it's probably just hot air venting in from somewhere deeper underground. Temperatures work strangely down here.

A warm breeze blows against Brad's face, and there's a distant roar coming from the blackness of the tunnel. A train barrels into the station, clattering over the tracks in a deafening roar that makes Brad flinch and step back from the tracks. It looks like it's going too fast to stop in time.

It does stop, and a mechanical _ding_ sounds before the doors hiss open. There's no announcement of the station or destination, just a bright, empty subway car with dirty paneling. Brad steps forward just before the doors slide shut behind him. The train gives a lurching start that makes him stumble and grab hold of the nearest metal bar. It's so cold that Brad can feel the icy metal through his glove.

The car isn't empty like he'd thought. A young woman sits at the opposite end of the car, wearing a big puffy coat over a short skirt and high heels. She must have been caught by closing time too, abandoned and left to find her own way home through the cold night. Her straight black hair hangs all the way to her waist, and her bare legs are so white they look blue, somehow unmarked by gooseflesh even in the unheated subway car.

Feeling a pang of worry, Brad walks to the other end of the car and sits down across from the young woman. "It's a bit chilly for that outfit," he says, hoping he sounds friendly and not creepy. "Are you okay? Do you need help getting home?"

The woman lifts her gaze from the floor. She has the palest blue eyes Brad has ever seen, and a shiver goes down his back. "Home," the woman says carefully, like it's a foreign word she's never heard before. "Come home."

All at once, the chill melts out of Brad's body. He's warmer than he was on the platform, warmer than he was in the bar, and he has to clench his fists at his sides to keep from frantically ripping his coat off. "I'm going home," he says, thinking about his warm front hallway, the stack of magazines on the entry table and the framed photos on the wall. "Are you going home?"

The train is still speeding through the tunnel. Brad thinks they should've reached a station by now, but all he can see outside the windows is endless black, twisting pipes flashing in and out of view. Gnawing terror grips his whole body.

"Home," the woman says again. She's beautiful, much more beautiful than the woman at the bar, and Brad wants her so much it makes his stomach hurt. Wherever she's going, part of him wants to go too, and that scares the rest of him shitless. "Home. With me. Come home." She extends one long, thin hand, ungloved and as white as fresh snow.

Brad squeezes his eyes shut. "No, I'm not going with you. I have a home." He tries to picture his bed, his parents' house, anything that ties him to the real world. An image pops into his mind from earlier in the night: Patrice laughing at the bar, the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his eyes.

The woman's finger touches Brad's cheek. It's so cold it burns, and Brad yelps, pulling his head back and knocking it against the window. His face must be frostbitten now, and the burning ache is spreading down his jaw and his neck, under his jacket to his chest. She'll stop his heart if she gets any closer, and she's already so close.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries as hard as he can to picture Patrice in the bar. _I wish he was here. I wish he was here._

The train screeches to a stop, lurching so violently that Brad falls over sideways. Keeping his eyes shut, he hears the familiar sound of a grainy voice announcing the next station stop. There is a moment's pause, then the doors slide open.

Brad fumbles to the door with his eyes closed. His cheek no longer hurts, and he'd swear he can hear multiple people moving around in the subway car. He steps through the door onto the platform and walks straight into Patrice.

Brad blinks. Patrice is really there, standing in front of him looking worried. "How did you…" Brad asks, but he doesn't bother finishing, just steps forward and grabs Patrice in a hug. "You saved me," he mumbles into Patrice's chest, his fingers shaking in the wool fabric of Patrice's coat.

Patrice chuckles. "You butt dialed me. I heard them announce the station, so I came down to meet you. It sounded like an argument was going on." Patrice's arms tightened around him. "You're such a pest, you start fights even on the subway."

Brad laughed. "Well, you got me out of hot water. You're a good friend, Bergy." He clapped Patrice on the back and stepped away, making his way toward the exit.

"You've got…" Patrice reached up and touched Brad's cheek, right on the sore spot where the cold woman had touched him. Patrice's fingers felt burning hot in comparison. "Something pink, right here. What happened?"

Brad chuckled, but he stepped closer so that his arm was bumping right against Patrice's. "No biggie. Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> I was really excited to remix this story! Since the original deals with the atmospheric horror of the woods and being away from civilization, I wanted to see if I could create the same atmosphere in an urban setting.
> 
> Thanks to Snickfic for betaing this.


End file.
